NationStates Jolt Archive

As is frequently the case in the Eternal Empire, the day’s weather could only be described as horrible. The wind howled ferociously as sleet fell in prodigious quantities, yet today was merely a typical day in Holy Xirnium, and everywhere Xirniumites could be seen going about their daily business with the archetypal grim optimism that so often characterised them.

Tymex had once been the capital of Holy Xirnium. No longer the administrative centre of the Eternal Republic, the city of Tymex was a much older city then Naerath, the current capital, a city steeped in ancient tradition and superstition. One of the larger Xirniumite metropolises, and at the very heart of Holy Xirnium, Tymex was nonetheless representative of the majority of the Eternal Republic’s cities. It embodied the distinctive marriage of old and new concepts, full of broodingly lofty ultra-modern skyscrapers and towering cathedrals and spires, built with resplendent stone masonry and dark gothic architecture.

Unlike so many sterile, contemporary cities that could be found in the other nations of the western world, Xirniumite cities possessed a distinct character, a feeling of being uniquely alive, which their inhabitants cherished. Their dark malevolence was infinitely more interesting (Xirniumites would argue more appealing) then the cold indifference that characterised most of their foreign counterparts.

Since time immemorial Tymex had been the chosen location of the seat of power of the Inquisition. The Great Synod, which was situated nearby, towered above the skyscrapers and gothic spires in the distance.

‘Greetings, honoured ladies and gentlemen, to the hallowed grounds of the Inquisition!’ declared Lord High Grand Inquisitor Sygnus Verdant, High Councillor and Chairman of the Board of Trustees of the Black Library of the Inquisition. The man was wrapped in the traditional black cloak of the Inquisition, which appeared to contain the barest shade of a dark midnight blue to it. The Grand Inquisitor seemed to ignore the terrible weather as he addressed the rather large throng of people on the wet lawn outside the Great Synod, though he had to fight to have his voice heard over the cacophony of rain. The gathered people were not under any shelter and had to weather the storm as best they could.

‘Each and every one of you who stands before me is here today because you have been chosen by the High Council as a possible candidate for induction into our most glorious order,’ the Grand Inquisitor explained, his hand indicating the menacing fortress headquarters of the Inquisition which towered in the distance behind him, its dark battlements clearly visible. ‘You have all attained exemplary distinctions from your parent military units, and served for at least three years with extreme professionalism and skill.

Now the time comes for greater trials then you could ever imagine, for great sacrifice and, perhaps, great personal advancement.

To those few that succeed, I shall see you again. Together we will delve in to the darkest mysteries of the human mind, exploring the very nature of our psyche. The doors of ancient knowledge will be open to you.

To those that fail, do not be disheartened. To become an Inquisitor is both a blessing… and a curse. True glory is found not in the courage to fight, but in the courage to peacefully advance society for the betterment of all, to pursue the arts, humanities, and sciences. Whatever path you chose to tread, I am confident it will be to the benefit of the human race.’

The Grand Inquisitor made as if to bow, but suddenly stopped. ‘Ahh, I have almost forgotten,’ he explained, though nothing could be further from the truth. ‘One of our oldest traditions in the Inquisition is to embark upon each new day with a single profound thought, a kernel of wisdom if you will that can guide or challenge us in the day’s endeavours. Today’s thought will be a piece of advice, I believe, and also puzzle for you to ponder.

Hmmm, let me think…’ the librarian mused, his wizened hand rubbing his chin thoughtfully. Confused, the candidates merely watched as they were progressively soaked by the driving rain. ‘I have it! “There are some weapons you cannot hold in your hands. You can only hold them in your mind.” Make of that what you will, and good luck.

May the Immortal God-Emperor protect,’ High Lord Verdant added, almost as an afterthought.

Spinning about quickly the Grand Inquisitor strode away through the torrential rain, back towards the Great Synod, his drenched cloak billowing in the wind. The time for testing had begun, and the eager candidates were directed by shadowy Inquisition Acolytes to a nearby baroque pavilion where they would undergo their first challenge.

A Mind is a terrible thing to waste; it has happened throughout time, potential wasted time lost, great dreams fallen. Deep underground a hidden Nexus, it is here that dreams are reborn anew, potential reawaken, and time itself is turned back. This is the lair of the Black Skull Enforcers, The most elite Cadre of Novacom, in their hidden Nexus they delve deeper into the mysteries of thought itself, and it is here that they induct newcomers into their order.

“I will admit Yuri, your progress on the Psychic Beacon project is impressive, this has the potential to change the face of war it is a pity that war is coming, a pity indeed,” Denteth would muse to a tall man next to him, the room was filled with light, seemingly at cross purpose to the secrets here, however below outside this observation booth standing tall and enigmatically in a ring of light in encroaching shadow stood a mysterious structure, a Psychic Beacon.

“Bear it no thought Suprainister, we live but to serve Novacom, and whether we serve it in peace or war we will serve, but I forget my manners you are here to discreetly inspect the new initiates, not discuss the philosophy of war with a humble Black Skull Enforcer,” Half bowing Yuri would extend a long, claw like finger towards a control panel, one of many at waist level the rested underneath the windows, one of which would change, an image projected across it showing a nervous troupe, they waited in a vast room shaken from their “safe” journey into this the most secret of facilities, Yuri himself would bow out into the shadows.

They were seated on low benches, comfortably padded, on the bare walls were placed sparsely Emblems either the Black Skull Enforcer, the Novacom Military or the Novacom crest. The walls themselves were a dark grey color, the room itself was sparse and Spartan with a sprinkling of furniture here and there, in the center of the room bubbling enigmatically was a large fountain, water would glide placidly down into a pool of tranquility, setting a jaunty if somewhat bizarre air to the room, which itself seemed to ooze uncertainty, a disjointedness an unnerving sensation.

The Journey to this place had been swift, each candidate had been picked up by a Parridigram, a Prolific Novacom Transport, for not all Novans lived on Destinus, it had braved the great perils of the storms, the tempest of the skies and the scourge of the seas, eventually all of the potential initiates had been brought together, and the final part of this journey had begun, or rather this was the end of a prelude, a prelude to a great beginning.

The final approach to Destinus, flying high to the Capitol city of Novesia, a Capitol city that defied time, it was truly ancient, the tall spire like buildings gleamed and shone in the sun, a strange crystal like Material that offered a semi transparency and with reflect light the city was wreathed in a halo, strange carvings adorned the surfaces of the enigmatic Edifices, as the transport flies high over, a storm of black charges down the streets and a fierce roaring can be heard, banners fly and flags flap. As usual a giant parade is in progress, bearing down with proud intent to the largest building of them all, The Tower of Destiny, the Heart of the Novacom Government, the Parridgram continues on to the aching peaks of the Sargasso mountain, in the distance the land stretches out, great forest and rocky canyon bathed in the purest of light from the most cloudless of skies, the Transport had accelerated seemingly into the heart of the sun itself hovering momentarily above the great peak before plummeting down at breakneck speed, entering a hidden passage, where a skilled pilot desperately tried to slow down enough, the journey was always dangerous, but the destination could be even moreso.

Finally the great doors of the waiting room open, and the encroaching shadows in the corner seem to become darker still, a pair of Black Skull Enforcers seemingly shimmer into existence at either side of the door, a sinister guard their eyes piercing and fixed upon the newcomers, any stares back would be lost to the seeming infinite depths of those haunting eyes.

An unknown call would beckon them into the room, a giant hall, giant Crsytal like structure floated mysteriously on pointed plinths, there were doorways set at regular ways down the room, at steady intervals on the walls was yet more iconography, above for two thirds of the room was another level, a maze of walkways and platforms, at the bottom third of the room was a large area, with several long benches, in front was a thing yet wide and long stage, on it mounted a simple podium and behind it simply carved into the wall was the Black Skull Enforcer Emblem.

The man alight the podium was tall, with a cropped head of black hair, his eyes the purest of blue, seemingly infinite depths, like all other Black Skull Enforcers seemingly. His face was strongly featured yet it held a proud air around it, the eyes were dreadmy and partly concealed in shadow, his mouth set in a thin smile and garbed in a uniform akin to Novacom Soldiers, however the black was lighter with this man, an almost imperceptible change, a shade of the richest of purples, at last the man spoke, a soft quiet voice, one that however echoed with almost unholy power, it filled the room, it’s vast vaunted ceiling and it’s strange crystals resounded back with an unknown force from this one man’s voice.

“I welcome you to the halls of our order, this Nexus stands as a place for mind, body and spirit,” his voice gentle with a slight edge to it, “Here you will learn the ways of the Black Skull Enforcers, you have been selected for your qualities, know now that the induction into our order is a long path, and not all walk this path, but instead the path to the lands of the dead, however though I sense that you will do well, and now I impart to you one piece of knowledge before you begin preparations for your true education, “The Mind is quicker than the eye,” remember it well and it will serve you well, now farewell.” With this the man, known only as Yuri would seemingly vanish into thin air, elsewhere the Suprainister would smile thinly, and so it begins once again.

A Quartet of Black Skull Enforcers form up around the 6 candidates and lead them out, first thing in order was a medical, before being fitted with uniforms and the true beginning.

Matteynel Keribos would stand as a figure in culture shock, he had been amazed that he found himself here, surely to be trained by the Inquisition, the highest of an esteemed ally of Novacom, truly this would be a great endeavor, whatever lay in store for him at the hands of the Inquisition, he vowed to himself, he would not fail. He was a rail thin individual, of young age, 31 to be exact his hair hung loosely in clumps on his head of brown color, his eyes a deep shade of green, greener than a meadow were alive with intense intelligence, he seemingly burned with enthusiasm, and he burned with the desire to succeed at the trials that lay ahead of him. He would remember the words, well he knew more than anyone else that the mind could indeed be a weapon, indeed it could…

The vast group had seperated into much smaller segments, and Matteynel Keribos' group, containing perhaps a dozen individuals, had followed some nearby Acolytes to one of the pavillions.

‘Rules build up walls behind which inferior minds create weak outposts. A perilous state of affairs in the best of times, disastrous during crises,’ recited a woman as she stepped in front of the group, her cloak flowing about her. She was instantly distinguishable from the multitude of Acolytes around her due to the fact that she wore the dark cloak of an Inquisitor and due to the grim authority with which she spoke. The group of candidates gathered near her under the pavilion, happy at least to be out from under the relentless rain and biting wind, if only for a moment.

‘What you must learn, and learn quickly if you are to survive this selection process, is that there are no rules here. Think beyond what is possible, and you may succeed. Think within conventional patterns and boundaries and you will fail,’ the Inquisitor explained, drawing uncertain looks from some of the candidates.

The Inquisitor spoke in a high, unsympathetic, but not overly cruel, voice. Though she had the appearance of a woman in her mid thirties her age would certainly have been far greater, and yet the Inquisitor carried herself with a certain grace, an elegance. The Inquisitor was quite tall and possessed high cheekbones, which instilled a dignified presence. Outside the pavilion, which was decorated with exquisite fittings and intricate patterns, the wind howled mercilessly.

‘On the table before you is your first test, perhaps the most important of all,’ the Inquisitor explained. The table itself was small and empty save for an inky-black hole in its centre, its ominous depth indiscernible. ‘Can anyone tell me what it is?’ asked the Inquisitor, but none of the candidates were willing to offer an answer.

‘The test is the unknown, the test is fear itself,’ answered the Inquisitor. ‘If one wishes to become an Inquisitor one must conquer mere feelings such as fear and pain, so that these might serve and not rule you.’

‘Aspirant!’ declared the Inquisitor, pointing to Matteynel Keribos, ‘come with me immediately.’

Together the two briskly walked in silence away from the group, the sound of their footfalls the only thing to break the quiet. After moments they entering a small, dark room where an identical table was located. ‘Ahh, our only Novan,’ the Inquisitor said finally, eyeing the candidate critically. ‘You shall be fortunate enough, or perhaps unfortunate enough, to be the first tested. The purpose of this initial challenge is to weed out those whose minds will sadly not be susceptible to our training, for various reasons. Should you succeed, there will be hope for you yet. Should you fail, you will die.’

Slowly the instructor removed an extremely thin, 8 inch long needle from the folds of her cloak, holding it up delicately to the dim light. The needle, of a thickness barely greater then a human hair, was barely visible to Matteynel. ‘Do not be deceived by appearances,’ the Inquisitor warned cryptically as she noticed the Novan’s confidence, ‘this hypodermic needle contains enough neurotoxin to kill you instantly.

It represents the one true “known” in the world, death. That emptiness before you,’ the Inquisitor explained, gesturing towards the table, ‘that darkness? That is the “unknown”. I cannot tell you what you will find within it, but it is no matter. Your mind controls your reality,’ assured the Inquisitor.

‘Your choice is, therefore, but a simple one. The known, or the unknown. Choose quickly, however, or the choice may be thrust upon you.’

________________________________________________________________________

Thalion Quenrond was still awestruck by the mysterious beauty of Novacom, so utterly different from Holy Xirnium. He felt that he could spend an entire age attempting to unravel its secrets, and yet merely would he scratch the surface of a vast secret. Thalion, already in his late thirties, was a member of the Inquisition, though like the majority of its members he had never gone on to become an Inquisitor, instead remaining as an Acolyte. The man was broodingly quiet, prefering to keep to himself, though keen to learn all that he could and ruthlessly determined to succeed at all costs. After donning the uniform that he had been given, Thalion sat pensively, ready for whatever task might lie ahead.

Nodding silently he plunges his hand into the hole, the only thing in his mind as a pain began to flow into his hand was, I need only remember the words of Yuri from Valjsguard, pain is nothing to the liberated mind, their is no pain only thought and reality, he didn't understand what he had meant, then again it had been hectic back then, it had been the only time he had seen a Black Skull Enforcer bleed.

He would endure the pain, a common Novan beleif was what does not kill strengthens, the easy path is scorned, to live is to struggle, wy should he take his hand out of the hole? it was only pain, yes great pain but still it was only pain nothing else, white hot lightning would begin to sear through his mind as the burning pain began to course through his hand and through his limbs,, yet he kept his dreamy face expresionless, it was only pain, he would endure.

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The Candidates had woken up in a room, sitting in the dark, simple chairs, in the center of the room was a circle of light, outside that light there was nothing, or seemingly nothing a faint music played throughout the room, there was nothing but the music and darkness and the ligt, in the small circle of light was a single podium, on the podium was a large ball, or was it a ball, it could be anything if the candidates were closer they could see it clearer, however none of them dared move for an hour they waited, but they did not move, or at least most of them didn't, seconds streched to minutes, minutes streched to hours and hours streched on into a seeming eternity, where was the instructor, who was the insrtuctor why were they not here, what was the ball, who else was in the room, what else was in the room, questions without answer and illogical happenings. For Thalion and the others the confusion would intensify, questions would rise to the front of their minds unbidden, sometimes it would be in a voice not of there own, what was this foreign presence, and why were they questioning themselves now of all times?

"I feel sorry for them in a way, but what does not kill only stengthens there can be no pity for that, should we make them wait as long as we were to?" Initiate Alkan would turn round, his pointed nose and piecring eyes eyeing up his colleagues, former classmates. They themselves had gone through this 6 years ago, it was part of the training, for those who thought they have learned, to learn again through the eyes of others, of course they didn't know that, the only other person in the room was a tall man known as Voronzel Kolosan, a senior member of the Black Skull Enforcer's he would be going with them in less than a day when the real training began, this was only the first test.

"Let them wait an hour longer, they have done well so far," was his only comment, he was a quiet man, his face youthful yet lined with power, there was something about him, a presence something deeper than that, some would say that this was the power of a god incarnate, others would say in fact it were the power of a true Black Skull Enforcer.

[OOC: This is only the first part of the post, the second (the Novacom one) will be posted later]

Matteynel Keribos endured the agony well, even as it grew towards an unbearable level. The pain would wrench at his mind, consume his consciousness in a blazing fire of anguish, and yet the Novan refused to pull away reflexively. In doing so he survived, for away from the pain lay the long needle of death - or at least that is what he had been told.

The Inquisitor allowed the barest hint of satisfaction to flicker across her expression. ‘Excellent, aspirant, remove your arm,’ she ordered, carefully pulling the long, thin needle away and dropping into a large beaker containing a blue solution. The surface of the solution fizzled briefly and then was still.

‘You passed admirably,’ she explained, regarding him carefully with intelligent eyes that seemed to possess a great depth to them. They seemed to bore right through the applicant, almost as if to gaze upon his very soul. ‘You have entered the unknown, and can now perhaps begin to unlock the mysteries of your mind, should you endure the agony of the selection procedure.

That is all, aspirant, you may go.’

‘My arm?’ asked the Novan, looking at it carefully. Where one might have expected a mangled limb, given the intensity of the pain, the result was quite the opposite. Not the slightest hint of harm was visible.

‘The pain was a simulated, aspirant, as are all forms of pain,’ explained the Lady Inquisitor simply. ‘Normally pain is a simulation created by one’s mind to indicate to oneself bodily damage, in this case it was merely caused by electrode stimulation of your nerve endings.

The point is that, as an Inquisitor (assuming, of course, that you ever become one, and such a thing is far from certain) you will learn how to effortlessly switch off all forms of pain, indeed all forms of external stimulus, at will. In this way we become masters of ourselves.’

****

Over the next few days the candidates were exposed to multiple tests, aimed at determining both the physical and, more importantly, the mental strength of the applicants. Keribos endured multiple gruelling six hour exams, often successively. Some of these test required the calculation and solving of complex mathematical functions, others consisted of complex puzzles involving abstract shapes and diagrams, and yet others were more conventional aptitude evaluations.

Physical examinations included tests of endurance and speed, and involved hideously long runs and swims in full combat gear and at a shocking pace. During one, applicants were made to conduct forced marches back and forth across a swamp, with vastly heavier kit then a soldier would normally be expected to wear and for a prolonged period of time without either rest, food or sleep.

Despite the fact that the applicants were continuously driven to the point of utter exhaustion, enduring the constant rain and wind that was typical of most of Holy Xirnium while being given the barest minium of rest, the applicants sensed that something more approached.

A new test.

[OOC: As promised]

Thalion Quenrond was one of the first to move from his initial position, leaving his Novan classmates to wait behind. The former Acolyte reasoned that, since little had happened thus far, little else would occur while no one took some kind of initiative. How curious this test is, a game without rules, but no doubt with winners and losers at the end… he thought grimly to himself.

Unbidden, the high nasal voice of one of his Inquisition instructors from the days of his training to become an Acolyte returned to him from the depths of his memory, the words as real now as the day that he had heard them.

"Confine yourself to observing and you always miss the point of your life. The object can be stated this way: Live the best life you can. Life is a game whose rules you learn if you leap into it and play it to the hilt. Otherwise, you are caught off balance, continually surprised by the shifting play. Non-players often whine and complain that luck always passes them by. They refuse to see that they can create some of their own luck."

There is much wisdom to this dictate, Thalion thought, and briefly considered touching the globe. Not yet, first let us see what it is.

Approaching cautiously, wary in case the glowing orb might suddenly represent some kind of a threat, Thalion would inspect the object at the closest distance. Perhaps a detail that he might discern would shed light on this strange mystery? In any case, he was not yet prepared to actually touch the enigma, only to see what it truly was.

The Orb on the Podium as it was approached would seem to shimmer, unbidden more voices would rise from within, it was almost as if it demanded atention, it demanded for it's mysterious surface to be touched, to be freed from the pedestal and to be secreted away somewhere, the voices within would intensify, Touch it, would call one, do it would call another, you know you want to came another.

By now more students had catuiously risen, however some instead were still sitting, while others had risen and were exploring the encroaching darkness outside the circle, there were numerous muffled grunts as people walked into each other. The time continued to strech on as the circle of light changed colour almost imperceptibly as the first person set foot within.

"So the Xirnimite was the first to rise, Initiative is good however it is blind initiative, yet there is reasoning behind it, better action than no action at all, nothing to be gained from waiting, Wise words yet he will learn in time that he must act without regret," Initiate Alkan would murmur, he still remembered his own test in this manner, even now as he streched his mind out to rear in turn the students below he still himself did not comprehend the full reasoning behind the test, though of course he had been the only one in his class to touch the orb, it had been a feeling of the absoloute, as if the power of a god had entered him, he had seen all and was all, he had felt everything in his classmates minds, seen through their eyes, felt their emotions heard through their eears, to finally collapse overwhelmed by the sensations, he had been told later that his other classmates would have similar expereinces, but much later.

"Wait Initiate, before you end this I want to see what the Xirnimite does next, this will be interesting to watch, how someone from the outside world who does not share our values and virtues handles this." Voronzel Koloson would murmur eyeing up the 2 men and 1 women peering out of the window down below, they were of course not only looking with their eyes, but with their minds as well, they had done well thus far, but they did not realised, they themselves were still being taught and tested, through the eyes of their own students.

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Matteynel had been tested and tested beyond extremes, it took him back to his own army training, the testing here was on the order of the regular training he had undergone for a year, true the burden back then was not as heavy but the climate was harsher, a great run around the collosal forge level of the ancient Foundry City of Galvouol was nothing to be sniffed at, but then neither was this, his body may ache but his mind was alert as ever, something was comming but what he did not know.